Four Spare Seats
by CyborgWithGreatHair
Summary: When Ranger returns from DC, his reunion with his wife is spoiled by a miscommunication. Will he and Steph be able to work through their issues and come out on top? Song Fic to the tune of Four Spare Seats by Kate Miller-Heidke. One Shot. Complete.


_Sunday evening I spent three hours searching through music and lyrics, wanting to write a songfic but unable to find the right song that spoke to me. A couple came close, and my bestie suggested one that would have been rather hilarious, but none of them really stuck out. I eventually found a song I really liked and thought could provide a good basis for a story line, but by that time I was dead tired and needed to get to sleep so I could get up early._

 _As you may or may not be aware, I ended up writing a random one shot "Not Her Type" that night when I couldn't sleep, but it wasn't the story I wanted to write. On my way home from work on Tuesday Morning, I was practically hit with the premise of the songfic I wanted to write. It was perfect. The song was Four Spare Seats by Kate Miller-Heidke, but it wasn't the song playing on the radio at the time the story came to me._

 _I've spent every spare moment of my time since then writing. And now I can finally reveal it to you._

 **Four Spare Seats**

Steph closed the apartment door behind herself and rested her forehead against the cool smooth wood for just a moment as she breathed a sigh of relief. She'd managed to get to the fourth floor without encountering any of the men. And there was one in particular that she was avoiding at the moment. She just wasn't ready to face him.

Pushing her hair – which had sprang out defiantly the moment her hair tie broke two hours ago – back from her face, she dumped her handbag on the small table that came standard with the apartment and grabbed up the iPod she'd left there that morning. She would have dearly loved to blast her music through the state of the art sound system she knew was in the TV cabinet, but she was acutely aware of the fat that the men who stayed in the building usually worked odd hours and there could be up to fifteen sleeping in the surrounding apartments. The noise pollution would likely not be appreciated – even if they told her it was okay – so she settled for wrecking just her own hearing by plugging in her head phones and pumping the volume.

Her plan did not work out so great, though, as she hit shuffle and the first song that played was a soothing piano piece. The gentle ebb and flow shocked her to stillness. It wasn't her usual style. She hadn't even put it on the iPod. The only explanation she could think of was that it had automatically transferred over when she last synced. Such were the perils of sharing an iTunes account with your husband, she thought as she hung up an outfit for the next day on the hook behind the door and dug through the duffle bag on the floor for a spare hair tie.

Then the song changed.

The familiar, poignant strains of a lone violin filled her ears. It was the piece Carlos always played when he was stressed.

A single tear slide down her cheek and she abandoned her bag, drifting through the small, borrowed apartment until she was braced in the corner, knees pressing into her chest. She called the argument that lead to her current situation.

 _She'd been at home – the seventh floor apartment – having just gotten out of the shower when she heard the door open and close quietly, letting her know that Carlos was back from DC. He'd been in meeting after meeting for three days regarding some top secret something-something he wasn't allowed to talk about. Pulling her robe a little tighter around herself, she made her way to the entrance, eager to share the news she'd received that morning and see what he thought._

 _Carlos smiled when she rounded the corner from the living room, dropping the mail he'd been perusing and opening his arms wide to invite his wife in. As usual, she did not hesitate to close the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his waist as he pressed a deep kiss to her mouth._

 _"How was DC?" Steph asked, leaning back a little to peer into his face._

 _"Exhausting," he admitted. "I'm glad to be home."_

 _She gazed up at him, a sparkle in her blue eyes. "It's been quiet without you," she informed him as solemnly as she could manage with her body so closed to his._

 _"Babe," Carlos responded with a small shake of his head. "It's quiet when I_ am _here."_

 _Now it was Steph's turn to shake her head. "Not always," she countered firmly. "I can think of many instances when you've made_ a lot _of noise."_

 _"Stephanie Manoso, are you suggesting I need to break up the silence that has fallen over the apartment in my absence?" he asked, dragging her closer so she could feel how much he liked that idea._

 _"Maybe," she beamed just as her stomach growled loudly, announcing that it had been a long time since lunch. "But I think it would be safest if we fed the beast first. That way we can catch up, too. I have a couple of things to share with you."_

 _"Sounds like a plan," Carlos agreed, loosening his grip enough that they could walk together to the kitchen to discover what Ella had left for them. "I have something to share with you too," he added, squeezing her hip._

 _Opening the warming oven, he revealed a delicious, yet unreasonably healthy, meal of grilled chicken and steamed vegetables. Not an unnecessary calorie anywhere in sight. Steph retrieved a can of soda and a bottle of water from the fridge and met him at the counter, hefting herself up onto a stool as he set a plate down in front of her. She took her first bite and, naturally, a moan escaped her throat. Ella's cooking always brought about such reaction. Carlos knew to expect it and waited for her taste buds to grow accustomed to the sensation before attempting to continue their conversation._

 _"So what are these things you have to tell me?" he asked, forking a green bean into his mouth._

 _Mouth full, Steph shook her head and pointed her own fork at him accusingly. She recognised his tactic immediately. He used it all the time, asking her a question so that she would carry the majority weight of the conversation. She wasn't going to let it happen this time, not least because now that he was sitting in front of her, she was nervous about how he would react to her news. "Not so fast, mister," she said. "This time you're going first."_

 _A short, half-hearted staring contest ensued as Carlos attempted to use his mind powers to her to speak, but she seemed to be immune on this particular night._

 _"Okay," he finally conceded. "As you know, most of what I did in DC is strictly confidential."_

 _"As it usually is," Steph agreed, stuffing more food into her face._

 _He gave her an ever so slight nod. "But while I was there I managed to get my Commanding Officers, handler and lawyers all in the same room. We ended up discussing my contract." Steph made a short grunting sound of approval, encouraging him to continue. "There's about six weeks of field time left on my current contract, or six months reserve, whichever comes first."_

 _"Okay," Steph said slowly._

 _"So we were shoot about some options for when that time is up," Carlos added, eyeing her carefully for her reaction. "And they were very insistent that I re-sign."_

 _Steph's face was as blank as she could possibly make it as she laid her fork on her plate and swallowed her latest mouthful. "What did you tell them?" Her gut told her she wasn't going to like the answer even before he opened his mouth._

 _"I said I'd think about it."_

 _Just as she'd suspected, he'd given them the wrong answer. She didn't have much experience with those suits in Washington, but if they were anything like the military men she knew – Carlos himself included – if they sensed any kind of uncertainty, they wouldn't hesitate stick their foot in the metaphorical door and keep pushing until they got to where they wanted to be._

 _"I thought we already discussed this," she said, brow furrowed. "You said you had no plans to re-sign. You said you thought you were ready to retire from the military. You said-."_

 _"I know what I said, Babe," he interrupted, almost exasperated._

 _"Then why did you tell them you'd think about it?" she pressed._

 _"Because they made a compelling argument," he responded coolly._

 _"_ You _made a compelling argument_ against _re-signing," she reminded him, slapping her hands against the counter top. "Have you forgotten?"_

 _A short silence grew between them while Carlos allowed her time to try to calm down. When it didn't appear that it was going to happen, though, he let out a sigh so small it was barely more than a puff of air. "Of course I haven't forgotten, Babe. But I think there could be some benefits to making them wait for a definite answer."_

 _Her eyebrows rose in question. "Such as?"_

 _"Such as getting more of my own needs and concerns for the system seen to."_

 _It was a solid point, but it didn't outweigh all those they'd come up with together. At least not as far as Stephanie was concerned._

 _"What happened to a long life together?" she asked, her voice betraying the hurt she felt even as she worked to keep it out of her expression._

 _"Steph, nothing is set in stone," Carlos tried to reason with her. "You're acting like I've already said yes."_

 _Her calm exterior snapped and suddenly she was on her feet, pacing back and forth on her side of the counter. "Because you may as well have!" she yelled, waving her hands about. "You know as well as I do that they'll see this as a weakness. And they're not above using any and all weaknesses against you. As long as you keep them in limbo, they'll keep offering you extra perks to sweeten the deal until they have you pressed between a rock and a hard place and you_ have _to sign the new contract."_

 _"I won't let that happen, Babe," he said firmly. "I know what's most important in my life."_

 _"And so do they!" she countered, reaching the end of the bench and whirling around to face him again, her expression contorted with a mix of pain and fear. "They probably have a whole file drawer devoted to cases they can make to keep you on their books. An entire file of which probably relates directly to me and your family."_

 _"Don' you even want to hear my side in all this?" Carlos enquired quietly, fighting to stay calm while his wife flew off the handle._

 _"Why bother?" she huffed. "You're going to do what you want anyway. No, wait. Not what_ you _want. What_ they _want! Programmed to hear and obey with a snappy salute to accompany it."_

 _It was at that moment that Carlos said the thing that words that sent Steph completely over the edge. She could no longer stand to look at him, much less stay in the same apartment. "For a woman who spent years trying to coax me into talking to her about the things in my life, you're doing everything in your power to prevent it from happening right now," he declared. "This contract is a big deal and I have to consider not only what is best for me, and you, my family and my company, but for our country in general. I need to make sure that my decision, either way, isn't going to cause more death and destruction."_

 _Stephanie stood stock still in the centre of the kitchen, her chest breathing as she inhaled and exhaled forcefully, trying not to cry. "What about the death and destruction of you?" she asked in a voice so quiet he might have missed her words if he hadn't been able to read her lips. "Aren't you as worthy of saving as the rest of the world?" And with that, she turned on her heels and ran from the apartment. She didn't bother waiting for the elevator, knowing that even if one of the Merry Men on duty saw she was waiting and sent it straight up it would give Carlos ample opportunity to catch up with her. Instead she took the stairs all the way to the parking garage. She didn't like running from him like this. Knew he'd be on her in a minute or less, but it was the only way she could see to drive her point home._

 _If he re-signed that contract he was as good as dead. The government would work him until there was nothing left. They'd been slowing down on his missions in the last couple years and as far as Steph could tell they were picking and choosing their requests a lot more carefully to make sure they weren't using up his time when someone else could get the job done just as easily. But now that time was running out, they'd stop at nothing to keep their favourite show pony on rotation. With a new contract they wouldn't have to be so careful anymore, which increased the chances of Carlos coming home in a body bag exponentially. She just couldn't understand how Carlos could look past that to find a valid reason to agree with the jerks._

 _By the time she reached the garage she was out of breath and there were tears streaming down her face. She paused next to her SUV, the keys she'd had the presence of mind to snatch off the side table on her way out of the apartment weighing heavy in her hand. She had nowhere to go._

 _There was the real Batcave – the house Steph and Carlos owned half an hour out of town – but he would surely look for her there first. She couldn't go to her old apartment like the last time they'd had a major argument years earlier, because the lease had run out just after they got engaged and they'd jointly decided to let it go as a bad joke. She hardly spent any time there anyway. If she turned up on her parents' doorstep looking like she did she'd have to explain herself and put up with her mother complaining about how Lou-Anne Wattinski's daughter didn't fight with her husband over 'work decisions'. That was definitely not an option. And Mary Lou was out of town on what she loosely termed a_ holiday _, but surely it could be anything but with three pre-teen boys in tow._

 _Before she could make a decision, the stairwell door banged open behind her, causing her to jump and turn around, hackles raised and ready for round to if it was needed. But it was only Bobby, strolling casually toward his own SUV. He froze in his tracks when he saw her, no doubt cataloguing every detail of her hysterical appearance in that swift glance before he crossed to her side._

 _"What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you okay?"_

 _"I'm fine," Steph sniffed, though the reliability of her statement was made questionable by the fat tear that rolled down her cheek. She shook her head, angrily swiping the traitor away. "I just need some space."_

 _"What happened?"_

 _"Carlos and I had a fight."_

 _Every muscle in Bobby's body stiffened at her words, but he managed to sound almost calm as he asked, "Did he hit you?"_

 _"What?!" Steph practically screeched, shock registering on her face. "Of course not. It was just an argument, but I need space to calm down. I need to not be near him right now or_ I _might hit_ him _."_

 _"And we all know how effective_ that _would be," Bobby tried to tease, but when all he received was another wet sniff, he gave up on the jokes. "Is there anything I can do to help?"_

 _She was quiet so long he thought she wasn't going to answer until finally, she lifted her head and asked, "Do you mind if I hang out in your apartment for a bit until I calm down?"_

 _"Be my guest," he assured her easily, fishing his room key out of his pocket. "Make yourself at home and let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."_

 _"Thanks Bobby," she said, giving him a rare hug to show how much she appreciated it._

 _He hugged her back, giving a small squeeze for good measure and told her, "No problem, Bomber. Keep your chin up. You'll get through this."_

 _Steph wasn't so sure, but she released him with a watery smile and made her way over to the elevator without another word._

 _That was almost twenty-four hours ago. She'd ended up staying the night at Bobby's while the man himself slept on Lester's couch two doors down. She awoke this morning to find a duffle bag of clothes and cheery note from Ella, before dressing and spending the day diligently avoiding her husband. After the fifth phone call before ten o'clock she turned her phone off, dumped her trackers in the glove box of her car and took a taxi to the shore._

 _The sound and smell of the ocean had always helped clear her head in the past. Unfortunately, today it only served to make her feel sick. Like she was out on top of rough seas, instead of simply staring at the calm beach front._

 _Eventually, she'd given up on the sand and surf and decided a trip to the mall would work better , only to find that the mall was overrun by obnoxious teenagers celebrating the first days of spring break by loitering and generally making a nuisance of themselves._

 _Her mood steadily worsening, Steph finally gave up and headed home, or at least, back to Bobby's apartment, needing to shower and lie down._

Shoving once more at the masses of hair now falling in her face, Steph caught a glimpse of her own reflection looking back at her from the blank TV screen and just stared. The lone violin in her ear had grown to a full orchestra by the time she recalled, not for the first time, that she hadn't told Carlos her news. She grabbed the lock of hair that had been annoying her and placed it more gently behind her ear, never once breaking contact with her reflection and mouthed the words she'd wanted to say.

*o*

Upstairs on the seventh floor, Carlos was feeling the absence of his vibrant wife. He'd told Ella not to bother herself with preparing an evening meal for him, deciding to cook for himself instead. Not only that, he was hoping that Steph would have come around and returned home by then so that he could share his home cooked creation with her and explain that he didn't mean to upset her with his news and he certainly had no intention of ever re-signing his government contract. All this was just a matter of fixing issues in the system before his current contract ran out so that he could make the world just that little bit better for future generations of people like himself. Not to mention the world in general.

He and Hector – the only other Rangeman still bound by a government contract – had been working on this little pet project for years. Holding firm on issues that are important. Not taking their word for anything. Refusing to go anywhere or do anything without verified evidence of available support and back up. Basically making life just that little bit more difficult for the suits to do their job. Sometimes, all it took was to open their eyes to what was really going on to kick them into gear. Others were a little more involved, like the stand that they'd been working on for soldiers to have the right to refuse a mission.

Often a person as highly trained as the men and women the government hand selects for their programs can sense at the first briefing if something is off. Carlos himself had experienced such a moment. He'd held up the entire meeting, refusing to move forward until they came clean. As it turns out the mission they'd been attempting to send him on was as corrupt as they come and he'd flat out refused to take part in it. Even threatening to report them to the Secretary of Defence if he caught wind that they continued with other pawns in his place. He hadn't encountered a situation like it since, but he had a feeling it was simply because they'd wised up and found less scrupulous persons to do their bidding. It would take an undercover task force within the system for him to find out, but that was a thought for another day.

For right now he had to figure out how to convince his wife to stay in the same room long enough for him to explain his agenda and make her understand that he wasn't planning on being a lackey to anyone but her from now on. It was all in the interests of the future generations of Special Forces men and women.

The problem with this situation was, he'd never experienced an argument this monumental with Steph and he didn't know exactly how to resolve it. He'd thought, perhaps naively, that she would be over her meltdown by that morning, but when she'd ignored the first five of his calls and then switched her phone off, his stress levels had skyrocketed. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't really had a moment, after that, to dwell on the dilemma until just after four o'clock as he was dragged from client meeting to legal meeting and back all day. His concentration had been tenuous at best throughout, distracted by thoughts of Stephanie, but that didn't mean he'd come up with a solution.

As he puttered about the kitchen, cleaning the benches, rinsing dishes and setting the dishwasher going he was acutely aware of his wife's absence. This was a task that they usually undertook together. Playfully dancing around or caressing each other as they moved through the small space. His ears would be filled with Steph's voice as she continued to regale him with the latest saga of her life, or her laughter as she attempted to evade his approach, or the bass-thumping music she was so fond of, or even the sound of the television she'd left on for background noise before he came home.

Now, all of that was missing. All that he could hear was the gentle whirr of the dishwasher, the ticking of the clock on the wall and his own breathing. Carlos had spent a lot of time on his own in his life, whether for work or relaxation, but not once had he ever listened so hard that he hear his own breathing. Usually he could put those kinds of noises out of his mind, focusing on the subtle changes that could indicate an approaching person.

The whole situation was driving him insane, he decided. In a past life he would have been perfectly happy to have the apartment to himself. Would even have preferred it. And here he was practically pining for his woman.

Making a snap decision, he turned the kitchen light off and made his way through the dimly lit apartment to the living room where he collapsed on one end of the couch. The end he usually occupied while Steph sprawled along the rest of it, he noted absently as he let his head tip back.

Five whole, silent minutes passed with Carlos trying to think through the events of the last twenty-four hours and getting absolutely nowhere before he gave up and grabbed the remote off the coffee table. The TV came to life a moment later, brightening the room and filling the space with sound. Carlos closed his eyes with relief. It wasn't exactly the same as having Steph there, but if he could pretend she'd turned it on and then left the room maybe he could make some headway at last.

 _At four thirty Carlos had brought up her tracker feeds on his laptop only to find that some genius ha deactivated them at nine o'clock that morning. He wasn't as worried for her safety as he might have been in the past since Hank had developed a failsafe that would transmit the last known location of the trackers if they were destroyed, however, it meant that he had no way of knowing where she was, and as a result, no clue as to where her mind was at. Over the years he'd worked out that the locations she gravitated toward after a crisis or stressful encounter could be used to accurately predict her mood. If he knew where she was he could have planned his actions accordingly._

 _Luck was simply not on his side today, because along with the Last Known Location, the trackers could not be turned back on without the correct passcode. A passcode that was set by the person who disabled them, which meant he had to find the culprit._

 _Ten minutes later he had the Core Team assembled in his office looking for all the world like they honestly had no idea why they'd been called in. Carlos knew them too well, though. Hell, he'd trained Bobby himself. They were all masters of flying under the radar. There was no doubt in his mind that one of the men standing before him had done it. It was just a matter of figuring out which one._

 _"Which one of you did it?" he demanded, rising from his chair with his hands pressed flat against the desk._

 _"I did," Bobby admitted, not sounding sorry in the least._

 _Lester looked from his cousin to his best friend to the second in command, confusion clouding his expression. "Did what?" he asked._

 _"I set Bomber's trackers to covert so that she'd have time to work through her emotions without Ranger sticking his foot further down his own throat," Bobby explained, his eyes trained squarely on Carlos's gaze the entire time. A challenge._

 _Carlos stared right back, silently threatening to cut his genitals off if he didn't give him something to work with. "Where is she?"_

 _Bobby shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. This was the biggest show of defiance he'd ever made, and apparently he had no plans to back down._

 _"I know you know, Brown," Carlos seethed, cracking his neck with a jerk to the side. "Don't make me beat it out of you."_

 _"Stephanie requested sanctuary," he informed his boss, his tone as even as the marble floor in the lobby. "Sanctuary from you. My orders have always been to protect her at all costs. If that means I have to protect her from you then so be it."_

 _Unbidden, a growl had risen up in his throat and he was hopeless to suppress it. "She doesn't need protection from me!" he intoned, fisting his hands on the desk. If Bobby wasn't careful he was going to receive an unrestrained knuckle sandwich._

 _"She was distraught," Bobby pointed out. "I don't know what you said or did, but I have never seen Stephanie that upset. I promised I'd keep you at bay until she was ready to face you again."_

 _"How long do you plan on keeping this up?" Carlos asked attempting to regain his calm exterior but finding it just out of reach, always kept at bay by the thought that Bobby was both following and defying orders simultaneously. Bobby, who had always been the reasonable one, the one most likely to give a guy the benefit of the doubt._

 _"As long as she needs," Bobby replied. "And if the evidence I found in my bathroom this morning is anything to go by, it could be a while."_

 _Lester and Tank, who had been following the back and forth like the ball at a tennis match, snapped their heads around to stare at Bobby with his latest statement. "What evidence?" Lester asked._

 _Bobby rolled his shoulders, stalling a moment just to watch his superior squirm. "This morning I returned to my apartment to grab some clean clothes and maybe even a shower, but when I opened the bathroom door, I found her sitting there, asleep with her head propped on the rim of the toilet."_

 _"What kind of evidence is that?" Carlos demanded. "It doesn't tell us anything."_

 _Lester shook his head and relaxed his stance. "Cuz, I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt, because you're stressed as shit at the moment, but everyone knows that's classic vom-bomb behaviour."_

 _"Vom-bomb?" Tank repeated, speaking for the first time since entering the office._

 _A laboured sigh fell from Lester's lips. "She was tossing her cookies. Probably because she drank too much the night before."_

 _"More likely she was stressed to the point of sickness," Bobby countered knowledgably. "Where would she have gotten alcohol? She leave the apartment and I don't keep any alcohol in there."_

 _"He's right," Lester agreed, nodding. "Bobby prefers to mooch off others when it comes to drinking."_

Carlos shook his head to clear his thoughts, shoving the rest of the interaction with his men from his mind and refocusing on his surroundings. Something was niggling at him, vying for his attention, but he couldn't figure out what it was. He ran a hand through his hair and stood up, thinking that if he wasn't going to get anywhere on the Stephanie issue he may as well get some work done.

He was a couple of steps away from the office door, on his way to retrieve his laptop, when the program on TV returned from an add break, distracting him. The sound effects were acutely familiar. The voices ingrained in his brain for all eternity. Probably, he could have recited the entire movie, beginning to end, word for word. That's how many times he'd seen Ghostbusters. It was Steph's favourite movie. She watched it when she was happy. She watched it when she was upset. She watched it when she was stressed. When she was angry. When she was exhausted. When she was drunk. Realistically she needed one of those novelty clocks that read "Watch Ghostbusters at" and then had the digital time displayed underneath.

That he hadn't noticed it was on earlier was a testament to how out of sorts the situation had him. He stood there watching it for several minutes, marvelling over his own lack of awareness before a flash from the special effects reflected off a photo frame on wall he stood beside, drawing his eye. There was just enough light in the room for him to see his face looking back at him.

What he saw shocked him. His hair was loose from its usual leather tie, but instead of falling gracefully around his face as it usually did, there were pieces sticking out at odd angles, almost like someone had come along and brushed that section of hair toward the root instead of the tip. There were dark circles forming under his eyes. Not so dark that anyone would mention it to him, but enough that he noticed it himself. He looked tired. Dead tired. He'd looked better the time he returned from an extended mission malnourished and sporting a life threatening wound.

He rubbed a hand over his face and acknowledged that the sooner he resolved this issue with Steph the better. Even a man like Carlos couldn't survive like this for all that long. He had to figure out how fix this before his exhaustion caused a slip up on the streets. The last thing he needed right now was an injury.

*o*

The next morning, Steph was ready for her day by seven-thirty. She was showered, and dressed, and her hair was styled as best as she could manage with a single hair tie and only three bobby pins. The only thing she hadn't done was eat breakfast. It wasn't that Bobby didn't have food in his apartment. He did. In fact, there were three choices of cereal, plus bread for toast and eggs and bacon in the refrigerator and she could have used some if she'd so desired. She just didn't want to eat alone. Sometimes if she was up this early she caught Carlos returning from a late run, gym session of whatever else he in the indecent hours of the morning when he should have been sleeping, and they had breakfast together. It wasn't a regular thing, and it didn't seem like such a big deal at the time, but that morning it felt like the most important thing in the world.

She wanted to find him and ask him to at least sit with her while she ate, but stubbornness got in her way. She wasn't going to be the one to go to him. She wasn't the one in the wrong. They'd _agreed_ that not re-signing with the government was in his best interests, and then he went and considered doing it anyway. He was going to have to apologise before she'd be willing spend any amount of time with him. Steph was sure they could work it out, but Carlos needed to take the initiative and admit he was wrong for a change.

With a sigh, she grabbed her handbag and keys and headed out the door. There was no point moping about Bobby's apartment, longing for a breakfast partner. She had things to figure out. The kind of things that required donuts to focus her thoughts. Major life adjustments needed to be made, which meant finding a way to tell those people it affected. This would probably be one of the most stressful breakfasts she'd ever had, she decided as she stepped on the elevator and hit the button for parking garage.

A few moments later she exited the little box and paused as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Carlos. Sensing movement behind her, she turned her head just in time to see her husband emerge from the stairwell. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was dressed in his Corporate Ranger attire, his hair neatly contained by his usual leather tie, the crisp white shirt contrasting his tan complexion nicely. When he glanced up from the phone in his hand she quickly averted her gaze to the ground, hurrying on her way to where her SUV was parked.

It was a moment before she heard Carlos's shoes following a similar path to the Porsche parked two cars down from her. She stole a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye as she stashed her bag in the foot well of the passenger seat and noted that he, too, was diligently avoiding eye contact. Clearly he wasn't ready for reconciliation yet.

Turning the engine over, the radio presenter practically yelled the news at her, blasting her with a wall of sound. She scrambled for the volume dial, recalling the loud music she'd been playing on her way home two days earlier to try to calm her nerves and drown out the thoughts in her head. At the time she'd wanted anything but to think about it, but even the music couldn't push it from her mind. She still hadn't really come to terms with it, which she figured was due, at least in part, to the fact that she hadn't spoken to Carlos about it yet, but she knew that certain parts of her life simply couldn't stay the same.

Steph waited for Carlos to pull out of the garage before doing the same, not wanting to give him an open invitation to follow her, even though she was fairly certain he was on his way to an important client meeting. She drove across town to the Tasty Pastry and order half a dozen cinnamon donuts which she took to the park down the street from her old elementary school to eat.

There was a surprising amount of activity for a weekday morning. The play equipment overrun with children that looked to be between the ages of two and four. Their parents – mostly mothers - were all gathered around on of the picnic tables nearby, travel mugs in hand and talking animatedly. Every now and then one of them would stand up and yell at a child to not throw sticks, eat sand, or go down the slide while so-and-so was trying to climb up it, but for the most part they were absorbed in their own little child free bubble.

Steph chose a bench seat on the opposite side of the play equipment and tried her best to ignore the antics of the children and mothers as she set about attempting to mentally reorganise her life.

*o*

It was just about lunch time by the time Carlos was finished with the security meeting at the new mini mall that was being built halfway between Trenton and Newark. He'd approached the project manager about providing the surveillance and security for the complex almost a year ago, when it was still in the planning phase, knowing that his and Steph's nieces were likely to see the new shopping destination as a personal gift. He was determined to make it the safest mall in America for that reason, but it was proving harder than he'd imagined it would have been. Mainly because of the project manager. He seemed to view a lot of the precautions Carlos had put in his plan as unnecessary and wouldn't budge on the matter until he saw hard evidence that Carlos's expert opinion was verified.

As a result Carlos now had a headache budding just behind his eyes. The mirrored sunglasses perched on his nose barely helped as he pulled up short behind the car in front of him. He suspected the headache was being compounded by the lack of sleep he'd gotten last night. All he wanted to do was get back to Rangeman and sit in his dark office while he made a few necessary phone calls, but there was a freak traffic accident clogging the streets of Trenton.

Leaning his head back against the headrest, he turned the volume of the classical music he had play down and commanded his Bluetooth system to call Stephanie. It was a habit. He often used his driving time to catch up with his wife these days, especially when his schedule kept him from spending those precious few minutes with her in the morning while she ate breakfast. It wasn't until the phone was ringing that he recalled her refusal to pick up the previous day followed by turning her phone off. Ringing was a good sign at this stage. It meant she was probably more open to communication today. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel with hope. By the time the ringing stopped his knuckles were white. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so stressed while waiting for her to pick up.

Yes he could. Five months ago. The last time her car had exploded and sent her trackers offline. It was a Wednesday. Thirty-three minutes past three in the afternoon.

"Shit. No. What are you doing?" Steph's mumbling voice filled the car. It was the kind of tone she often adopted when she was actually talking to herself, not those around her. "No, no, no, no, no. Wrong button. Why must there be so many buttons? It's a car, not a computer. Abort! Abort!"

"Babe?" Carlos said to get her attention. His single word was followed by complete and utter silence, but she hadn't hung up. That was another good sign. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Things just kept getting better. "Don't hang up. Please, just hear me out."

The sound of air rushing out of her lungs came through the speakers, but still she didn't hand up. It was possibly she was still looking for the _End_ button, so he had to act fast if he wanted to keep her on the line.

"I have no intention of ever – and I mean _ever_ – re-signing a contract with the government. I made that decision the day I discussed it with you and I would never in a million years dare to go back on my word." He paused a moment to let his words sink in and to check for signs that she might want to respond. Silence prevailed, so he continued. "I know you think that by saying maybe to them I've practically signed the contract already, but you have to realise that as long as I'm on their system I have a certain amount of power. They're willing to bend to my will, to a degree, and I can get things done. Things like making the system safer for younger, more naïve, less assertive or knowledgeable men and women who are coming through the ranks. If I can make cause the small change that will prevent someone from getting unnecessarily killed, of course I'm going to do it. And the only way to do that is to let them think that I'll continue on with them. If they're trying to keep me on, they'll action my requests. If they think I'm a lost cause, they'll just give up on me. The government doesn't like to expend energy on things that aren't going to happen."

Long moments passed and Steph continued to say nothing. As much as Carlos had initially been glad for her lack of response, because it allowed him to say his piece, explain in full, he was now worried for what her silence meant. Steph liked to yell, as the argument two nights ago proved. She liked to rant and rave and talk. Her not saying anything was not something Carlos was accustomed to.

"Babe?" he prompted.

"You're _not_ re-signing the contract?" she asked slowly. Her voice sounded thick, like she was holding back tears.

"Never," he assured her.

"So I'm not going to have to worry about you coming home in a body bag?" she pressed.

A small smile graced his lips. "Technically, I still have those six weeks in the field left, but I've been working privately with my lawyers to get a substitute."

"You mean like sending someone else in you place?" Steph inserted, quickly. "Carlos, you know that they choose you because you're practically the only person who can possibly get through it alive. Sending someone else in like signing their death warrant."

"Relax, Babe," Carlos said, supressing the sudden urge to chuckle. It was amazing how much simply talking to the love of his life could change his entire mood. "Nothing like that. We're trying to get the government to agree to waive my field time if I agree to stay on for a two year consultancy basis."

There was a short pause before Steph spoke again. "What does that mean?"

"It means that if I get my way-"

"Which you usually do," Steph interrupted.

"They won't be able to send me back out into the field again. Absolutely no chance they could send me to my death. I could be called into meetings at any time, or asked to oversee an operation, but I'd be staying state side."

"How close to this deal are you?" she asked.

"The lawyers are taking it straight to the top of the food chain next week."

"And you have faith in these lawyers?" she pushed, her voice stronger than before.

"Of course," he assured her. "I wouldn't pay them if I didn't believe they could make it happen."

A relieved sounding sigh sounded over the connection, followed by some more muttering. "Thank God, because I am _not_ prepared to raise this kid alone."

Shock and confusion passed through Carlos before he managed to tamp it down and draw in a breath. "What kid?" he asked slowly. His knuckles were suddenly white on the steering wheel once more as he shifted forward in his seat. Another silence, even more agonising than at the beginning of the phone call, ensued.

"Ours?" she said uncertainly.

"Babe," he said, barely able to breathe as he connected the dots. "Are you telling me-"

"I'm pregnant," she gushed. "I found out day before last."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Carlos asked.

"I was going to," she assured him. "But I wanted to do it in person, so I waited for you to get home. And then I ended up flying off the handle instead."

The car behind Carlos honked its horn, subtly telling him to hurry up and move up the three feet that had opened up in front of him. He barely managed to retrain himself from flipping the bird as he eased forward. "We're having a baby?" he said. There was an odd feeling in his chest, he couldn't tell if it was dread or elation. Probably it was a mixture of both. He hadn't really been around a baby since his nephew – now ten – was born, and he certainly had never taken a serious part in raising one.

He glanced in the rear view mirror at the small back seat of the car, imagining a child's booster seat there. There wasn't really much room back there. Getting the kid in and out would probably be a trial. Definitely not a family car. The SUV Steph usually drove was roomier, but still not the idea car for transporting a baby what with all the skip tracing customisations. He'd have to do some car shopping in the coming months, but one thing was for sure, his days of driving around with four spare seats were numbered.

"You're not mad?" Steph asked rather than answer.

Carlos shook his head, even though she couldn't see him. "Why would I be mad?"

"Because having kids wasn't really in our plans," she pointed out. "And you mentioned on more than one occasion that you don't want more kids."

"Babe." He was sure he'd probably said as much at some point in their long relationship, but he couldn't recall exactly when or in what context. "When did I say that?"

"When we were discussing changing my birth control method," she replied promptly.

"That was six years ago, Babe," he shook his head and eased the Porsche forward another few feet. "We were newly engaged. Neither of us were in a place to bring a child into the world."

A small sob emitted from the speakers causing the knot in Carlos's stomach that he'd been trying to ignore for two days to tighten. He hated when she cried. What made it worse was when she cried and there was _no way he could get to her because of all the idiots on the road!_

"Babe, where are you right now?"

He heard a sniff followed by a miserable, "Stuck in traffic."

"On Hamilton?"

"How did you know?" Steph asked, surprise registering in her emotion clogged tone.

"Me too," he admitted. "I'm two doors down from the Bond's office. You?"

"A block and a half past it."

"Turn off the first chance you get, Babe," Carlos requested. "I'll do the same and we'll meet in the parking garage at Haywood. I need to convince you that I couldn't be happier about this baby."

*o*

Bobby was in the breakroom, grabbing a quick bite before he had to cover the monitors for five hours when Lester's head poked around the doorway. "Bomber's back," he announced.

"And?" Bobby responded, raising an eyebrow in tandem with a spoonful of yoghurt.

"And Ranger is making a beeline at speeds that are less than legal," Lester added, giving him an _Aren't you glad I keep you informed_ look as he disappeared again.

Swallowing his last mouthful, Bobby dumped his rubbish in the bin under the sink and hurried to the bank of monitors located near the elevators. No less than seven men were already gathered there so that he had to shove through the throngs to be able to see. He'd just made it to the front when he heard Tank's booming voice from somewhere nearby.

"Alright you lot," he called. "Clear out, this isn't Saturday night at the drive-in."

Naturally, the men disappeared in milliseconds, leaving just those that were rostered on for monitor duty, plus Lester, Bobby and Tank.

Lester glanced at the iPad in his hand where Ranger's tracker was displayed. "He should be roaring through the gate any moment now," he informed the group. "Steph still hasn't gotten out of her vehicle."

"I've got Hank on standby in the stairwell just in case this goes south," Tank assured the others. "We're going to sit this one out, see how it goes."

At that moment the men watched on the monitors as Ranger's low slung Porsche roared into the parking lot and screeched to a halt directly behind Steph's SUV. He didn't even bother to pull into the very available space right beside her, just threw the door open and strode to the driver side door where Stephanie was finally, slowly getting out. Her feet had barely hit the ground when Ranger scooped her up and deposited her on the hood of the car, stepping between her knees to remain close.

"I don't understand," Lester said. "I thought they were still fighting. They barely even glanced at each other when they left this morning."

"Maybe they talked," Bobby suggested with a shrug. Honestly, he was glad they seemed to be working things out, because Lester's couch, while it looked great, was definitely not meant to be slept on. Not to mention the tension that had been clenching like a fist around every single one of the men in the building since the moment Stephanie emerged from the seventh floor apartment in tears. As dysfunctional as it may seem, Rangeman was a family and when things weren't right between Ranger and Steph, it trickled down through the ranks. Usually it was just a little snap of irritation here and there, but never had it been as bad as it was this time around. Bobby had had to step between two men who were practically trying to rip each other's faces off.

"Seriously, guys," Lester muttered. "What's going on?"

On the screen, Ranger had his hands on other side of Steph's face and was talking very seriously to her while she nodded and gave him a small watery smile. He pressed a kiss to her lips which quickly deepened into something less restrained. The Men averted their gazes, keeping just a quarter of an eye on the screen in an effort to give the pair some privacy, but when Ranger ended the kiss a little more abruptly than he normally would have and placed his hand, flat palmed, against her stomach, a light bulb suddenly came on in Bobby's brain.

"We're having a baby," he announced excitedly.

"What?" Tank said, brow furrowing.

"Steph's pregnant," Bobby informed them confidently. "It all makes sense now. Her emotional ups and downs lately. The way Steph was so worked up over the prospect of Ranger signing up for _more_ missions. Her illness yesterday morning. Ranger's hand on her stomach just now."

Lester's face broke into a goofy grin. "We're having a baby."

" _They're_ having a baby," Tank corrected, face professionally blank.

Bobby and Lester gave him a single raised brow each, silently telling him to be serious.

"If Ranger and Steph are having a baby, we're all having a baby," Lester informed his friend. "That's the way family works."

 **The End**

 _Please know that while realistically I am heading straight to bed after I post this (typically, it's getting late), I am on the edge of my seat to see what you all think of this story. It's my favourite to date._


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